In-Between
by Alatar Maia
Summary: (Takes place between tAV and ML) Castiel, the Winchesters, and others, over time. I didn't feel like this belonged in Alternate Vessels, so I'm making it a separate story.
1. Chapter 1

**Little drabble I thought of.**

 **This takes place at some point in between the Accidental Vessel and Modern Legend.**

* * *

"Hello, Dean."

"Jesus _fuck_ -" It was a testament to how many times Castiel had pulled that exact move, because the Impala barely swerved at all. Sam still grabbed onto the seat, out of reflex, and twisted to look at Castiel.

"Don't do that!" Dean demanded. "I swear, at least call ahead!"

"I apologize," Castiel said, but he didn't look particularly apologetic. More irritated.

"Did something happen?" Sam asked.

"No, I..." Castiel paused. "I just wished to stop by. But neither of you were at the bunker."

"There's a case in Colorado," Dean said. "We were heading over there to see what it might be." A sigh flashed by Sam's window, too fast to properly read, but he caught a glimpse of fast-food insignias and figured it was a notice for an upcoming rest stop.

"I see."

Sam glanced at Dean, who was looking in the rearview mirror at Castiel. "C'mon," Dean said. "That's it?"

"Matters in Heaven are," Castiel began, and then didn't finish, brow creasing in an expression that was _definitely_ irritated.

"Are?" Sam questioned leadingly.

"We're not about to have another showdown, are we?" Dean asked warily. "I thought people were taking care of that."

"Malachai does not present much of a threat," Castiel said. "And Bartholomew went almost completely underground after Michael's last appearance. They have done a...surprising amount to help."

"What, Michael has? I thought we knew they were on our side now," Sam said.

"I'm still iffy on the whole trusting-Michael thing," Dean said flatly.

"I believe their intentions are good," Castiel said, "and their actions reflect that. Michael is an archangel, and either the threat of that kind of power or the hope for a new leader has let most of the fighting die out. Most believe Gabriel will show up eventually."

Dean snorted. "Good luck with that."

"Exactly," Castiel said darkly.

"Uh," Sam said, "I thought you were cool with Gabriel? Has - did something happen?"

Castiel settled against the back seat, mouth set in a thin line. "He is being deliberately obtuse," Castiel huffed. "I would have thought after his willingness to collaborate with Michael on the issue of the Knights, there might be some change in the situation, but-"

"But what? He's being a jerk about it?" Dean interrupted.

"In the simplest terms, I suppose."

"And this is a surprise?" Dean's eyebrows raised, and he glanced at Sam as if to say, _Obvious, right?_

"He's refused to so much as consider the idea of re-entering Heaven," Castiel said. "Many have been sent to seek him out on Michael's behalf, but he only contributes anything worthwhile if Michael themself goes. If anyone else tries, he just _distracts_ them and then vanishes mid-discussion-"

"I'm guessing Michael asked you to go," Sam said.

Castiel scowled. "Yes."

"Just now?"

"Yes." Castiel rolled his eyes, which he _must_ have picked up while he was human. Or possibly from Gabriel. "Michael wanted to talk to him about Metatron. Gabriel insisted on having a conversation about chocolate which lasted for three hours, after which he vanished as soon as I happened to look the other way."

"He was in Heaven before, when he opened the Gates, right?" Sam asked, and Castiel nodded.

"Once before that, as well, to try and figure out what was causing the problem. But he hasn't returned since then."

"Dude's been avoiding angels pretty much constantly for, what, centuries?" Dean glanced up to the rearview mirror as if checking Castiel's reaction. "I can get why he wouldn't be so thrilled to go back."

"Fourteen hundred years," Castiel said, "and no one's asking him to come back _permanently._ "

"Wait," Sam cut in. "You know _exactly_ when Gabriel left? How come you never told us that before?"

"It's only a guess," Castiel said. "It's not as though I ever had extensive dealings with the archangels. The closest I ever got was receiving orders directly from Anael."

"Anna?" Dean looked started. "Why - she wasn't an archangel, was she?"

"Of course not," Castiel said. "But she was Gabriel's second-in-command. Which I suppose explains part of why she left, actually."

"But you know when _he_ did," Sam pressed.

Castiel shrugged. "I can guess. The last message he was sent to give was when Muhammad was given Revelation, and that was in the seventh century. According to the Gregorian calendar, at least. That wasn't the last _message,_ though, but Michael went to speak to Joan of Arc. Which would never have happened if Gabriel remained in Heaven at that point. I assume it would have been easy for him to come to Earth to give Revelation and then simply not return."

"And you say you never talked to archangels much." Dean looked amused.

Castiel gave the back of Dean's head an unimpressed look. "I did not. Those events were common knowledge. Especially Michael speaking to Joan of Arc, as it was the first time many had heard from them in a long while, not to mention the first time they had been to Earth since its creation."

"Since _Creation_?" Sam repeated, surprised.

"Michael did not make a habit of interfering with humans often. Or interacting with any angels besides Gabriel and Raphael." Castiel hesitated. "And Lucifer, I suppose."

Sam's hand curled into a fist at the name, even so long after they'd had anything to do with him. It cast an awkward silence over the three of them, until Dean cleared his throat. "So, what, Gabriel's having commitment issues? What are _you_ supposed to do about it?"

" _I_ can't do anything," Castiel said huffily. "Gabriel will not listen to anyone. I don't know of any angel who could persuade him to stop acting like such a-" Castiel cut himself off, inhaling slowly.

"Ass?" Dean suggested.

"I've been attempting not to call him names for the better part of the day and I do not intend to start now," Castiel said, "but yes."

"Trust me," Sam said, "we've all been there."

"Shut up," Dean scoffed, "I'm a treasure to be around."

"Not all the time, jerk."

"Bitch."

"Is using insulting epithets typically a part of a sibling relationship?" Castiel sounded puzzled.

"It's our thing, man!" Dean laughed. "Not like there's anyone else like us out there."

"I'm sure there are plenty of siblings," Castiel said, but he was smiling, and Sam had gotten used to his deadpan sense of humor.

"There's not anyone like your family, either," he said, turning to flash a grin at Castiel. "Guess that's part of the problem, though."

Castiel inclined his head. "I don't suppose you have any advice?"

"For angels?" Dean shook his head. "Nah, man, I think our advice when it comes to them isn't the kind you'd use in this situation."

"I don't think either of us know Gabriel any better than you do," Sam said, slightly apologetically. "Michael would probably be the best person to handle this situation."

"Michael has other things to do," Castiel muttered, but he didn't seem quite as irritated as he had been when he'd arrived.

"Well, you're welcome to hang around," Dean offered.

"I should at least let them know how it went," Castiel said, shaking his head. He leaned forward and over the seat to press a kiss to Dean's cheekbone. "I'll catch up with you later."

There was a flutter of wings, and Sam was alone in the car with a furiously blushing Dean.

"You've been dating for like, a year," Sam said, amused.

"Shut up," Dean said, but Sam could see his lips curve into a pleased grin.

* * *

 **Review?**

 **Part 2 will come soon, I just need to figure it out a little bit better.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A little drabble I got an idea for. Loosely based on the style of nimmieamee's Notes From the Wizarding World.  
**

* * *

They said many things about Hermione Granger.

When she returned to Hogwarts, after both Voldermort and Harry Potter were dead in the ground, people called her brave, a hero, deserving of a rest for her role in the war. Some called her cold, for she didn't seem to grieve very much for all that she had been one of Harry Potter's closest friends. One of only two that could claim they _knew_ him. And where was Michael Corner, then? Only ever with her or in classes, or else vanishing off to some hidden corner of the castle to do who-knew-what. That Michael, they said, was even worse off. But _she,_ they said, couldn't be bothered to help her friend.

Hermione graduated with most of the honors Hogwarts offered. She would have had more, except she occasionally got distracted, helping Michael with Heavenly issues or sending letters to try and pry Gabriel out of his London house to come see her graduate.

He did come. He turned her cap bright blue and added a brace of feathers to the brim, in Gryffindor colors.

Hermione didn't see Gabriel much, nor Michael once ne had left to go try and manage Heaven again, but that was alright, it was partially her fault too. She was very busy, and people said things about that, too. No time for anybody, that Granger. So driven, no time for family even!

Well. There was Fleur. But people didn't know about Hermione and Fleur. And at that time Fleur was actually away, back visiting her family in France. So Hermione worked, with no indication that she was interested in romance or having children, and people tutted about tradition and The Role of Women and how these Muggleborns always _did_ end up upsetting the status quo.

People didn't talk like that in public. Not after the war. Not with so many Death Eaters standing trial, so many already in Azkaban. The worlds, _Pureblood ideals must be upheld_ were never uttered. Not that exact phrase. But they were thought, and people tiptoed their way around _really_ saying it, while implying it as strongly as they could.

The Death Eater Trials, as they were officially called, were what really brought Hermione to her calling. She was called several times to testify, especially in the matter of the Alley battle. She was asked several times exactly _who_ had killed Voldemort.

She always replied that she was not sure. This was true. She wasn't sure whether it had been Michael or Gabriel - they had _both_ vanished pretty quickly afterwards, and she hadn't been close enough to see the act itself.

Death Eaters pleaded and bargained, and cried Imperius, and the name _Loki_ was often repeated. Hermione was asked about that, too. She said she'd never met Loki properly and only knew of him through a friend, which was also true, in a roundabout manner. You learned how to answer questions like that, when you hung around somebody like Gabriel.

Fleur returned halfway through the trials, and she often met Hermione in the Ministry to leave for lunch or dinner - never at the assigned spot, always deep in conversation with the man who checked wands, or somebody's undervalued secretary, or a friend of Arthur Weasley's in Muggle Artifacts who desperately needed a proper, non-Wizarding explanation for how he could avoid messing with people's electricity all the time while on the job.

The Trials were over eventually, of course. Very few Death Eaters escaped persecution, or jail. A rare few did. Money still talked. But those few were never in the standing they had been in before, never quite the same shining pillars of society they were used to being.

They blamed the Muggleborns. More specifically, they blamed Hermione.

Hermione, in response, got a job in the DMLE.

She didn't start there. She started with her friends, the security men, the secretaries, the 'dumb' departments. But she was very good at research, and at figuring out where secrets were being kept or seeing where something didn't quite match up. And she was also quite good, if it could be called that, at being nice to people who did not expect kindness from an up-and-coming hero of the Second Wizarding War, and who were quite willing to exchange favors with her.

There was more than one Muggleborn, in the Ministry, with the same dreams of change burning away in the back of their mind while they took dictation for some Pureblood Head of Department or entertain some pureblood Valued Campaign Contributor. Hermione was saying all the things they wanted to hear.

Some of them were skeptical, of course. They cried wolf, while in the background the Ministry silently seethed with the audacity of this girl. Barely out of Hogwarts, what does she know? We've already tried, what does she think we can do better? Things are perfectly fine as they are. Let it stay. Let it be as it is. The Wizarding World is better than the Muggle one, we don't need change, thankyouverymuch.

The thing was, they didn't count her stubbornness, nor her friends.

They all thought Loki had left with the end of the war.

Hermione was beginning to think, at the time, that she was getting to know Loki better than she'd ever thought she would. Gabriel had been her friend, she knew of Loki and learned quick what little behaviors meant he was one or the other. She accepted his help most (though not all) of the time; accepted the little favors, let him cause trouble elsewhere so she could slip in an idea unnoticed, but _definitely_ turned him down when he offered to do bodily harm to her opponents.

Loki always grinned at her when she said she didn't want to hurt them. _You mean literally hurt them,_ he said. _I'm sure your ideas and words do plenty of damage._

Hermione said that she'd be content to deal only superficial wounds with pointed words and destruction of outdated ideas, thank you, and Loki would fake tipping a hat and spirit himself out of her tiny office just before someone walked in with news.

Sometimes her opponents were hurt anyway. Most of these were the worst of the worst, the pureblooded supremacists trying to rise again with a swell of new ideas. These ones, she never got the chance to counteract Loki; these ones were always 'accidents', and she was never sure whether she would have told him no anyway, so it was probably just as well that Loki never asked.

With a god causing a surprisingly quiet amount of chaos in her wake and her own determination and skill, it wasn't much of a surprise to Hermione that she rose through the ranks within the DMLE pretty quickly. People caused a fuss, of course.

That Granger, too ambitious. That Granger, trying to rise above her station. Leave it well enough alone. Leave her as somebody's secretary, doing busywork. Prove yourself!

She did. Without Loki's help, or anybody else's, really. If they were going to give her the most difficult tasks they really shouldn't have been so surprised when she got them done.

Michael visited her, once. Ne glanced around the Ministry, taking in the people (and what kind of people they were, no doubt) then sighed and said, "I meant to get _away_ from all this."

Hermione took an early lunch and they went and talked in a small restaurant in Muggle London she liked.

People talked about that - mostly the mysterious reappearance of Michael Corner, who hadn't been seen since graduation, and less of what she was doing with nem, though Witch Weekly speculated loudly on the possibility of them being lovers. Somewhat ridiculously, no one had picked up on the fact that she and Fleur were together yet. They'd probably have to get photographed signing a wedding license before anyone believed it.

"Hey," Hermione said, in bed, the night after that idea occurred to her. "Let's get married."

* * *

 **I can end it there, right? I think I'm totally allowed to end it there.**


	3. Slepnir

**I feel like the kids' perspective is important. Part one of six, I guess.  
**

 **Slepnir first, because he's the oldest.**

* * *

Of course I'm worried.

I'd be stupid not to be, and have to be blind and deaf to have not noticed what's going on. Dad's getting all sorts of visitors, there's Æsir _here,_ Fen was almost _killed._ And Narvi said-

Narvi _thinks_ that they want us back.

* * *

I don't remember any of it.

* * *

I think everyone else does.

* * *

I said thinks because that's what's true. Narvi thinks. Narvi doesn't know for sure. None of us do. Dad might, but

He doesn't

I think

He doesn't talk about it.

I don't know why.

He tries to help. He _does_ help. But he can't fix us.

* * *

I want to know.

Why won't he tell us? It's us, not him. Don't we

Shouldn't we

Is this meant to protect

I don't know what I think.

* * *

I think it's dangerous.

I think I get why he doesn't like us going outside, not even into the yard, even though there are so many trees it's almost impossible to see in.

I think I get why he brought us Scully.

I think I want to know.

* * *

I think I understand.

* * *

I think I'm missing something.

A lot. I'm missing a lot.

* * *

...I think we're in more danger than he makes it seem.

* * *

I think this is all going too fast.

A decade ago I was ten, about. Three centuries ago I was a baby.

Ten. Ten centuries ago. One thousand years, almost. I'm being general. I forget I missed time.

All I have to do is go outside and I remember, though.

* * *

I liked London, when we lived here. Before.

I don't like it now. The air's all dirty and you can't see the stars anymore. There are too many people in too many places. Everything changed.

Everything changed and I don't have the time to catch up because it's still changing. _I'm_ still changing. Too fast.

* * *

I'm trying to go with it.

Older brothers are supposed to do that. But I don't look like the oldest anymore.

* * *

I don't _feel_ like the oldest anymore.

* * *

Am I still the oldest if I don't remember enough for it to count? If nothing actually changed from one end of what I remember to the other?

* * *

I wish looking out for them still meant 'don't let Fen drop anything breakable' and 'make sure Jormungand is okay' and 'don't let Hel crawl out the door'.

* * *

I can't keep them all safe if protecting them means

if it

if I

* * *

If I die then I can't keep them safe.

* * *

They already killed Hel.

She was just a baby.

* * *

What if I don't die

and someone else does.

* * *

What if _Dad_

 _no._ Dad can't die.

* * *

He wouldn't leave us.

* * *

Right?

* * *

...Can't someone else help me with this?


End file.
